Marrying The Mafia Heir

• ALL RIGHTS RESERVED •

COPYRIGHT © 2024 by M.Z.Mauve

• DISCLAIMER •

Scenes, characters, dialogues and events in this story are all invented.

This story contains mature themes, profanity, graphic violence, graphic scenes of a sexual nature, and other triggering content not intended for young readers. Unauthorized reproduction of any part of this story or plagiarism of any kind is prohibited by the law.

| CHARACTERS |

FL ••• Alderney "Dayn" Del Rio

ML ••• Erison Andrik "Erian" Božić

Lysa ••• Dayn's best friend

Arkadiy ••• Erian's paternal cousin

| CHAPTER 1 |

• ALDERNEY •

"You sure about this one?"

"No." I trace the edge of the countertop, scowling at the trail of dust on my fingers. "But, this will do." It's not an old house. Not brand new, either. This house isn't mine-at least, not yet-but it's the one I keep coming back to in my mind.

It still smells of paint. It's much smaller than the nine-bedroom mansion I share with my husband. But this place feels like freedom. Or the closest thing to it, anyway.

Anticipating more half-hearted compliments from my best friend, I take a deep breath. My fingers run over the polished granite. I do the same thing on the island counter. Like it might ground me despite the contradicting thoughts competing for my focus.

"I mean, it's not bad." Lysa's voice crackles on the other end. "It's cute."

Just cute? This property is worth hundreds of thousands. This will cost me a lot. Money I'm not supposed to waste.

"Way more manageable and cheaper than the last."

"Ugh. There's a 'but' coming." I pull a face.

"I just don't think it's worth the..."

"What?"

Lysa sighs. "It's in the middle of nowhere."

"Kind of the point, Melysa." I step away from the windows, keeping my voice down. As if Erian might see and overhear me from hundreds of miles away.

He won't. There's no way.

I've been careful. More careful than usual. He doesn't even know this town exists. I didn't, until Rio's broker friend mentioned this place.

The house remains silent. I peer through the window. I'll be living a quiet life here. Far from the chaos my husband often lives in. "New scenery. New experiences."

"Yeah. Sure. I get it. You need a reset more than anything."

"Someplace he won't think to look." I don't wanna say I need a new hiding spot. I do. But I don't wanna scare my best friend.

Lysa likes to worry about me, and she watches too much true crime. "Just leave him already." She lets out a deep sigh.

Yeah. I should call it quits. The novelty's worn off. I'm not happy anymore.

It's partly my fault. All of this wouldn't have happened if I just told Erian what he needed to hear. If I just came clean sooner than we could say our vows in front of all those people.

He's not the type of man I thought I'd marry. Not by a mile. But he tried. Some days, he still does.

Then again, it's probably just an act. People don't really change. I'm stupid for expecting he would. I think he can already tell that I'm getting sick and tired of all this.

Erian just doesn't want to accept it. Because it means I'm breaking my promises. My vows.

I'm not proud of our failing marriage. Of what's become of our relationship... But I don't wanna keep living in fear of him and his messed up family.

"Rio and I can help." Lysa sounds do-or-die now.

"I know. But it's just too... Y-You really don't have to get involved."

"Dayn, come on..."

"You know how he is." So I'll just go back to his house, pack all my shit, and just say bye? Tell Erian how much I hate being married to him? That I can't wait to divorce him?

"Ugh. Don't give me another excuse."

"Not tonight. I can't just leave." I grip my phone. I don't have to explain. Or make her understand how the ties that bind me to Erian are more than just legal or financial. Leaving my husband isn't as easy as my friends think.

Lysa and Rio have met Erian a couple of times. Enough to get a pretty good idea of who he really is. And I still feel guilty that I've put my friends at risk by introducing them to the guy I married.

Melysa can be immature at times. But she isn't naive. She knows what men like Erian are capable of. Her dad's a high-ranking politician, after all.

"It's really not that simple."

"Alderney." She's practically shouting now. Lysa sighs, clearly disappointed. "We already did the research. Safest places to stay, jobs you can-"

"But I already have a job," I cut in.

"Erian knows where you work. It's not safe."

"Fine." I sigh. The pit of my stomach hollows. My boutique job isn't really something to be proud of. It actually feels like a flimsy shield against his world.

I didn't tell my friends-especially not my control freak husband-that I've been using my job as an excuse to escape the house. Just to feel like I still have control over some part of my life.

My phone buzzes. I hold it away from my head, frowning at the interruption. The caller's name heats up my blood faster than I can remind myself that I can't sound or look pissed off. Not right now.

Shit. It's Erian.

A video call? Really? Why? I'm sure it's not because he already misses me. The jerk only wants to make sure I'm not with another man. "Gotta go. Talk later."

"Why? Where will y- Please don't tell me you're going back to his house. For the love of..." Lysa scoffs. "Dayn!"

"Talk to you tomorrow. Thanks." I hang up before she can figure out that I'm chickening out. I might postpone everything again. My heart thuds as I stare at the screen. I draw a long breath, forcing my finger to press the green icon. "What?"

"You comin' home?"

"Not yet." Without bothering to fake a smile, I stare at him, my thumb slowly tracing the sharp angles of his face. The hint of excitement in his deep voice tugs at my heartstrings. But only for a few seconds.

Why is he shirtless? It's freezing out there. He's not in his gym. Or by the pool.

Ugh. Why does he have to look this good? The perfect match of his parents' Greek and Russian genes. I used to think he's the most good-looking man I've met. But now it's just irritating. Annoying.

Despite his age, he's still that handsome. Built like an athlete. Intimidatingly tall. Agile. Intelligent. Ambitious, too. Business-minded and strong-willed. He's also the most generous and goal-oriented person I know. Always knows what he wants. "Okay. You're still mad at me."

Of course I'm still mad. I haven't seen him in weeks. He's been trotting all over the globe with his secretary who only wears tight blouses and pencil skirts that show off too much. And the other day, I caught him snooping around my things. Not the first time, though.

He was reading my journal. What's worse? The bastard didn't even apologize. Like it's no big deal. Like invading my privacy to that extent is just something I gotta get used to because I married a guy like him.

"Is it that obvious?" I put my phone away, just so he won't see me rolling my eyes.

"Fine. I deserve it."

That's it? Not even a half-meant 'sorry'?

"Hungry?"

"No."

Erian combs back his dark hair that's short and naturally shiny. It's straight, quite bouncy. Unless it's slicked back for a business meeting or something. He sighs and mutters a complaint in Russian, sounding a bit nervous and impatient.

It's not something I'm used to. What has he been up to all day? I didn't bother to ask. I haven't replied to his messages. Ignored all his calls this morning, too. I don't know where I'm getting the courage.

Like he's not a six-foot-three, well-connected criminal with anger issues, whose boss is a filthy rich, egotistic mobster who doesn't take no for an answer. "Seriously, love. Where are you? I'm gettin' worried."

Barefaced liar. He's not really worried about my safety. He's worried I'm cheating on him.

I feign a straight face, bored, almost cringing at the sound of his beautiful, manly voice. It's still fairly relaxed, quite smooth, as if he hasn't smoked in years. He's asking where I am because he's upset that I'm not home yet. "Mall. I was just leaving."

"Which mall? Alone?"

"Yeah. Melysa's still in Dublin." My heartbeat quickens. I'm lying again. I try not to make a face, staring at the narrow staircase. I'm still alone here on the first floor. I don't wanna leave yet. But I'm not allowed to spend the night here.

"I'll pick you up."

"No."

"Alderney..." Erian sighs, the look in his attentive blue eyes triggering my nerves.

"I'm going back to wor-"

"Malishka..." [Baby...] His voice softens just enough to make my stomach twist. "It's our anniversary tomorrow."

Does he think I forgot? "I didn't forget."

A sincere grin tilts the corner of his lips. "Got something planned."

Planned? Like what? A dinner date?

"Come home. We're going to the airport tomorrow."

"Erian, I-I'm not in Louisville."

His smile vanishes. The look in his eyes shows disappointment as he squints at something. "I know."

What? Who told him where I am? I already got rid of my other phone-the one with a tracker he installed. Not that it's anything surprising. "Who told you?"

"Pick you up in the morning. Lev will drive."

"What?" Before I can try to argue, the line goes dead.

•

•

•

Just as the first rays start to brighten the horizon, I catch my breath and stand beside the gas station, calming my thoughts with deep inhales and long exhales. I fix my hair using my phone's camera.

I can't look like I just woke up and didn't bother to shower. I barely slept because of him.

The place is still quiet when Erian's sleek black SUV pulls up. Lev sits behind the wheel. He's Erian's bodyguard slash driver and distant cousin.

I keep my mouth shut and climb in the backseat as quietly as possible, my mind racing with the weight of what I'm about to do.

Erian glances at me and puts on a smile. He's on his phone, in an uncharacteristically good mood, humming to himself. He smells good and looks good, and he puts his tattooed hand on my thigh while I try not to fidget beside the tinted window.

Are we going back to his house? Then what? To the airport?

Well, technically, it's not a house. It's a nine-bedroom mansion Erian bought with his own money. Not all dirty money, I suppose. "Big deal closed?" I fake a grin and keep my tone careful. I don't wanna set him off-not today.

Erian smirks and glances at me. "Somethin' like that."

"Where are we going? Just tell me." I hold my breath, just waiting for him to ask me questions like I'm in his interrogation room.

But he doesn't. The jerk gives me a smile instead. "Nope. It's a surprise."

I squint at him, trying to decipher his vague words, but my gaze keeps flicking to my purse. Inside is an oversized gray sweater-another man's sweater.

Rio's. He left it at the open house before he drove off with his work friend.

I have no other explanation for why I have it. Only that it feels like a lifeline. A piece of the world I wanna escape to.

•

•

•

We're on our way home past noon after having brunch at a new restaurant. It's French-Italian. Spacious. Expensive.

As always, Erian paid for everything. His mood shifts the moment we step inside the house. He trails me upstairs.

"I need a shower," I say before disappearing into the bathroom, my hands almost trembling as I text Lysa. [ I'm telling him tonight. ] I also send the message to Rio.

Can't keep putting this off. I'm finally telling Erian that I'm done. That I want out.

"Who's that?" His voice startles me. Erian stands in the doorway, alone, his expression quite dark. The beard he hasn't shaved in weeks only adds to his grim expression. His eyes narrow after he catches me eyeing my bag.

"Melysa." I look away. Shoot. Did I stutter?

"Why?" His thick and dark brows crease. "You're goin' somewhere again?"

Oh. So he actually thinks I was out partying with Lysa all day and all night. "Not tonight."

"Where'd you spend the night? Hotel?"

"Right." I scoff and don't even look at his face. I just about snap at him before shoving my phone into my pocket. "As if you don't know already."

"What?"

"You know what I mean." I turn on the faucet and start cleaning my face.

Standing just a few steps away, Erian's gaze drops to my purse. He grabs it before I can. Then he carefully pulls out the sweater, holding it up like it's a crime scene evidence. He stares at me with a tight jaw, like he's waiting for a long and innocent explanation. "What's this?"

"It's Rio's."

The small curves between his brows deepen. "You didn't say he was with you last night."

"Slipped my mind."

Erian sighs, the smell of wine in his breath still quite strong. "Why didn't you tell me?"

"Because I know you're just gonna turn it into another argument," I say in a calm, almost bored voice, the words sounding hollow even to my own ears. My heartbeat's ratcheting up, and my legs feel unstable.

It's not just fear. I'm more nervous about hurting him. There's no guns in this bathroom, or any other deadly weapons I can use. Not that he's drunk enough to be that violent, but...

"I'm taking a shower. Please get out."

Erian chuckles, his hands on his hips. When I don't elaborate, he tosses the sweater onto the counter.

Shit. Are we really doing this now? "What?"

"I've been patient, Dayn."

"What?"

"I've let you sulk. Drop out of school. Avoid me whenever you feel like it." He shrugs. "Let you do whatever you want." He gestures to the sweater, his voice getting louder. "Now you just expect me to ignore this?"

"Ugh. It's Rio's sweater. He left it yesterday before he drove back to work."

The jerk steps closer. Too close that his forehead's already touching my hair. "What's the guy's name?" When I don't respond, he repeats the question, but in Russian this time.

My ears tingle. "I dunno what you're talking about."

"What, is he that good?" His breathing hitches.

"Huh?"

"Way better in bed?"

"You sound insane." I push him away. Just looking at his face makes my blood simmer. "Why are you always this paranoid? It's not normal. You know that. Right?"

"Don't act like I'm the problem here," the jerk mutters, his scowl etching lines on his tan forehead. "You've been lying to me for weeks. And I don't even bring it up 'cause I'm tired of this. Us fighting all the time."

"Oh. So it's my fault?"

"What were you doing in Crest?"

"None of your bus-"

"Why're you barely home?" The bastard glances down at the wrinkled sweater.

I turn off the faucet. "Should ask you the same thing." I take off my shirt. "But you never give me real answers, so why bother?"

Erian sighs out loud and slams his fist on the wall.

I flinch, but I don't back off. I'm gonna get hit in the face.

Or is he going to choke me? Strangle me to death?

My chest heaves. I struggle to hide my tears. They keep coming. I take deep breaths. I don't want him to see me crying. I don't want him to think I'm crying because our marriage is falling apart.

It's the undeniable truth. But I don't wanna hurt him-not like this. Because to him, the truth always hurts the most. Cuts the deepest. And I don't want his aggressive, vindictive side to come out. Not here. Not now.

I'm alone. Defenseless. I'm no match against him.

"One last time," he mumbles through gritted teeth. "Where were you yesterday?"

"Fine," I sigh. "You want me to say it? I'm seeing a guy." I pinch the bridge of my nose when he barely moves. "There. I said it. Happy now?"

The words seem to hit him like a slap in the face. Erian gawks at me, his eyes glistening, almost glaring. For a moment, I imagine him lashing out. Slapping me. Hurting me. Leaving bruises my clothes can hide.

But he turns and just walks away, his shoulders stiff.

Crap. I just dug my own grave.

•